Disappointment
by cornwallace
Summary: Maybe you're better off this way.


**Dedicated to someone who probably won't ever read it.**  
><strong>I love you. And I hate you. But that's okay. You no longer exist in my world anyway.<strong>

* * *

><p>If there's a light at the end of the tunnel...<p>

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * I can't seem to make it out...

Through

* * * * * * * * * * * all

this

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * darkness...

* * *

><p><em>You still love me.<em>

* * *

><p>The lone light bulb buzzing under these dark circumstances. Invading my head via my eardrums, sending unclean vibrations throughout my entire being.<p>

I am reminded of you, and only of you.

The covering of the bulb, seemingly for no reason has fallen off, but has not broken. The circular glass piece thudding against the carpeted floor. I am startled, only by the sudden action. My reaction, to sit and stare, dumbly.

Another hit from the bottle. Another drag from the cigarette.

I am what I am until I die. And then I'm nothing.

Be it for better of for worse, the universe never turns out the way I expected. Things are what they are. The world is what it is. I numb myself to suppress myself from feeling the way I do. But perhaps instead of numbness, what I feel is intensity. Maybe I'm just too stupid to realize it.

Dissolving into myself. Becoming something new. Something new, something more broken than I previously was. New doesn't always mean perfect. It's not always a clean slate. Sometimes it's just chaotic pieces, scattered sporadically across the plane.

Buzzing is driving me mad. Head starting to tear apart at the seams.

I laugh, because if I don't, I'll cry about it all. I say what you're thinking only because you're too chickenshit to admit it. I don't know what I am anymore. What I was happened to be lost a long time ago. I'm not sure if I feel pride or regret about it.

Black and white. The world itself can't be that cleanly cut, can it? You can't separate the darkness from the light, because maybe you can't tell the difference. Maybe you're too scared to try. Maybe I am. I never said I was perfect, and I never will.

Still, in my moments of darkness, I think of you. Only of you.

Get up and approach the fallen piece of glass. Look down at it to notice the dead wasp corpse in the center of it. Legs curled up like that of a dead spider, eyes still black and wide.

I had almost forgotten you were there at all.

I remember you. Trying to sneak your way in through the ceiling. Coming out at the wrong spot. Finding yourself stuck in a hell you couldn't imagine. Your silhouette, I paid close attention to. Flailing around. Suffering. Good, you fucked up, just like I did. Now I get to watch you squirm until you die, just like the sadistic fuck above me, if there is one. Watching me squirm until I die.

At the very least, I can relate.  
>At the very least, I can feel good about that.<p>

Your body, once red, now completely white. All the pigment from your exoskeleton sucked from your very being while you fried like the insignificant being you are.

Can feel my face contort into a grimace. You disgust me.

This will be your tomb forever, I tell myself, as I pick the glass covering up and screw it back into the light fixture - three screws, one screw at a time. This will be your eternity.

I can only hope mine is as bright as yours.

* * *

><p>"Get up," I tell him, kicking his side.<p>

Blood boiling. Heart racing.

"Get the fuck up," I say.

He whimpers, rolling over to his stomach. With difficulty, stuttering physically and whining madly, he manages to work his way up to his hands and knees.

"Fucking pathetic," I tell him. "I almost died because of you, you little shit."

He doesn't respond. Only sits there on all fours. Head down. Losing it.  
>Disgusting.<p>

He's crying now, like the little bitch he is. When he begged to be here, begged to be my right hand man. What the fuck has he accomplished? Jack fucking shit. Endangering the life of me, losing the lives of countless others.

Sally. He's the reason Sally died.  
>Fucker.<p>

Robotnik's corpse not fifteen feet behind me, I can't help but not feel happy about this victory.  
>This wasn't a victory. This was a fucking disaster.<p>

"Do you know how many people are dead because of you?"

He doesn't respond. He just keeps fucking crying.  
>Kick him again, and he rolls back onto his side. Arms and legs curling to his torso, respectively. Eyes tightly shut.<br>As if that will save you.

"You're a fucking disappointment," I tell him. "Nothing but a bunch of shit that could have been and never happened."

He whines louder, and my foot connects with his face, knocking it sideways, cutting him short. Sending blood and teeth the other direction.

Am I mad at you, or something else?

"Fucking worthless," I say. "Just as you've always been."

Moments flash through my mind when I close my eyes. Moments that I choose to ignore. Moments that my friend and I shared together, through thick and thin.

As hard as I try during this short period of time, I can't help but feel anything but disgust for him.

There are three bullets left in the gun I draw from my belt. The words I whisper as I point the gun towards your crying, helpless, useless face stick with me for the rest of my life, but I don't know it yet. I won't know it until much, much later.

I laugh, because if I don't, I'll cry. It's kind of sad that it's the last thing you heard from me, as I pull the trigger, and splatter your brains against the pavement underneath you.

* * *

><p>I'm sorry, Tails...<p>

* * *

><p>The light, flickering in this empty room, save for a mattress and empty space for what could have been. Heart skipping a beat. Eyes fluttering unwillingly. Skin numb, like an acupuncture session. Head swimming like a confused scuba diver, lost and left behind, running out of air.<p>

Darkness. Light. Darkness. Light.

Breaking. Mind melting. Thoughts disrupting focus. What is this pain I feel in my chest? This burden?

Open the door and walk my way out into the dim grey lighting the sky bestows upon this land. I look up and watch the crescent moon be consumed by clouds. All I can do is apologize to myself over and over again as the final words I spoke to you ring through my mind, because I know for a fact, that even if I could, I'd never be able to say it to you in person.

It would never be enough. I'd never be enough to just give you the two words that you need to hear from me, your friend of many years.

I'm sorry.

* * *

><p>"It's time to pay the price."<p> 


End file.
